THE FIRST TIME I felt sophisticated because of food was at a peewee hockey tournament for my older brother. It was an affair that required our entire family to crowd the conversion van and drive an hour or three to some neglected tundra outside of the Twin Cities where we would stay at a budget hotel and complain about such topics as the inability to feel our feet, and hockey. Let’s say that I was eight-years-old, because I probably was.
I HAD MADE this cake before. Well, not the cake pictured above. I ripped this cake off of the Internet, an act which I imagine is the digital equivalent of stealing a cooling pie from an open window. But I have made a cake like the above picture. Twice.
Super self-explanatory food blog.
BELOW IMAGE: a cake.
Okay, fine, at your request, here is a Q&A regarding this blog.
Question: Is this is a place where food dreams come true?
Answer: No, this is a memoir of my food exploration. I didn’t grow up cooking, but I’ve had a life-long obsession with food (I always laugh at this cliche, because it’s a bit redundant; wouldn’t I be dead if I didn’t have a life-long obsession with food? Yes.). Here, I intend to document my trials and general idiocy in the kitchen and outside of it, at places such as Asian markets or co-op dumpster bins.